


still low to the ground (but high on living)

by cinderlily



Series: living next door to alice [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1939329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick and Jonny have a daughter named Alice. And she is about to make their day. (Again.) (Soooooo self indulgent kid fic... potty Training fic, I'm not even ashamed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	still low to the ground (but high on living)

“Noooo,” Alice whined, her naked butt skittering down the long hallway between her bedroom and the bathroom. “No wanna.”

Pat was chasing after her and he swore to GD if the sound behind him was Jonny’s camera phone he was going to actually murder his husband. With two years left on their stupid contracts.

“Alice come on,” Pat said. “Sadie was potty trained in like three days.”

Alice turned and frowned at her dad. It was her Jonny frown, the one he swore was a learned behavior and not genetics, because it conveyed so much annoyance in so little actual muscle movement. “No wanna.”

“Sharpy has to remember he has a wife. It took her like three months. And she had a sister who was already trained.” Jonny pointed out from behind him and really. Who needs the last twenty million that would bring him? If he made it look like an accident he could surely get a great settlement. He tried to convey this thought with a look over his shoulder.

“Not helping, Toews.”

So Jonny came and knelt down in front of their half naked daughter and smiled, “Alice, _si tu essa ies l'on peut appeler grand-mère pour lui dire._”

Her eyes lit up. “Faetime?”

“ _Oui_.”

She turned on her heels and marched down the hall. Pat couldn’t help but hide the laugh from how serious her stride was with the naked butt and her bright red caped SuperGirl shirt. It still felt like she should be doing the drunken stumble of a year before.

“I thought we weren’t ‘ **bribing** ’ her.” He definitely put the quotes in there because he had to sit through Jonny’s stupid ‘game plan parental strategy meeting’ twice on the plane between games where he could've slept.

Jonny shrugged and stood up to walk towards the bathroom. “I didn’t bribe her with food or TV.”

“Just your _mom_.”

He just barely caught the half smile as they entered the bathroom. “And you say you don’t speak French.”

Alice was already seated on the gaudiest kids’ potty of all time (given to them by Oshie, no shock there) that was pink throne with ‘Princess Alice’ painted on it. She looked up at them expectantly.

“Gand-mère?”

Pat shook his head. “You’ve got to try.”

So they stood and watched. And waited. And watched. And waited. For his own sense of pride he didn’t look at the clock, sure that it would mock him for the length of time he was spending staring at his daughter on a freaking throne.

But then it happened. It started out as a drip. Then another. Then a steady stream that was all of three seconds before Alice stopped and looked a little wide eyed.

“I done.”

There were maybe six times in his life he could say he felt his heart burst in his chest. The Stanleys, obviously. Getting drafted. Holding Alice for the first time. When she called him Daddy.

And right at that moment.

He stared at Jonny, who was possibly more wide eyed then their daughter and fist pumped like it was 2010 all over again.

“SHE DID IT.”/"SHOWTIME!"

Jonny held up both arms and then ducked down to pick her up.

Seeing where this was going he screamed, “DUDE WIPE! WIPE FIRST.”

Jonny complied, quick and then did exactly what Pat knew was going to happen. Alice giggled and wiggled a whole lot more than the Stanley but he still held their daughter up and bellowed loudly. He dropped her down slightly and blew a raspberry on her exposed belly button.

“Paaaaappaaaaaaa,” she giggled helplessly and Pat only half wished she’d pee on Jonny for old time’s sake but instead she was set down and wiggled. “Mère!”

“As you wish,” Pat smiled and forced her to wash her hands. (He washed his for good measure and decided he’d deal with the throne like… never. Or later. Whatever.)

“First?” Jonny called as they got into the hallway. “You need pants.”

She wiggled her way out of Pat’s grasp and ran down the hallway.

“Hey,” Jonny twirled him around and caught him in a quick kiss.

Pat smiled. “Dude, we’re raising a human.”

The fist bump was necessary.

“READY.”

They both looked back.

And okay. A tutu was close enough to pants.

**Author's Note:**

> This is half based off of my son's potty training, in that it made me think of how my dancing and singing for my son was kind of a celly and then I thought, "I wonder what a Toews-Kane Kane-Toews celly would be like. Would there be chest bumps?"
> 
> And then I wanted to avoid life. 
> 
> PS, I took French in high school and college and I butchered this no doubt but all he said was, "If you try we can call grandma and talk." ... I think. 
> 
> PPS, my daughter (who is currently 3 months) was gifted a gaudy throne potty with "Princess Grace" on it. I kid you not. It is huge and horrible and I almost non-ironically love it.
> 
> PPPS, My husband added the "Showtime" bit. I have never been more proud of him than in that moment.


End file.
